The Dark Divine(13)

Daniel screwed up his eyes and wiped his nose on his sleeve. I thought he was about to cry, but then he punched me in the arm. “You Divines never make any sense.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and limped up the aisle. At least his injured leg was getting better. It seemed like he could barely walk only a few hours ago when we picked him up for church. Daniel said he’d fallen out of the walnut tree the previous morning. But I knew he was lying. I’d been out front all day planting petunias with my mother, and I knew he hadn’t come out of his house.

I wished he’d ask for help.


My voice faltered as we sang the line, “Bless them, guide them, save them.”

A thought hit me like a slash of paint on canvas. What if Daniel, in his own sideways manner, had been asking for help the other night? Asking for my help?

When the song was over, I sat down in my seat with renewed resolve. It was too late to scrape the idea away.

I knew what I had to do.





MONDAY, BEFORE SCHOOL




“I’m sorry, Grace, but there’s nothing I can do.” Mr. Barlow stroked his mustache.

I couldn’t believe how unreasonable he was being. My entire plan hinged on this factor. If I was going to help Daniel get his life back, I would have to get him back in school first. Then I’d find a way to make things right between him and my brother. “The decision is yours, Mr. Barlow. Daniel needs this class.”

“What that boy needs is respect.” Barlow shuffled a stack of papers on his desk. “Kids like that think they can waltz in here and screw around. This is AP art, not an easy-A course.”

“I know, sir. Nobody takes this class lightly. In fact, I think it’s an honor just to be in here—”

“Exactly. That’s why your friend will not be joining this class. This is a place for serious artists. Speaking of which”—Barlow opened his desk drawer and pulled out a long slip of drawing paper—“I want to discuss your last project.” He laid the paper on the desk. It was my shoddy teddy bear drawing.

I sank down in my chair. So much for fighting for Daniel’s spot in the class; it was my own standing that was on the line now.

“I must say, I was quite disappointed when I saw this.” Barlow waved his hand over the drawing. “But then I realized what you were up to. Quite a brilliant idea.”

I sat up taller. “What?”

“Tell me if I’m wrong, because I would hate to make an improper interpretation. I asked the class to draw something that reminded them of their childhood, but I love your take on the assignment. This is plainly an example of your talent and skill level as a child. I’m impressed with your artistic vision.”

I nodded, then wondered if I was doomed to hell for doing so.

“You should have turned in both of your assignments together. I almost gave you a failing grade before I saw this one.” Barlow pulled a second drawing out of his drawer and laid it on the table. It was the charcoal sketch of the walnut tree.

I almost choked. At the bottom of the drawing was my name scrawled in April’s unmistakable curly handwriting. “I didn’t …” But I couldn’t bring myself to admit the truth when I saw the admiration in Barlow’s face as he looked over the lines of the tree.

“This is an excellent example of your growth and breadth of skill over the years,” Barlow said. “To be honest, I didn’t expect to see this level of skill from you before graduation.” He pulled out a red pen and marked a bold A+ at the top of the paper. “It is an honor to have you in my class,” Barlow said, and handed me both of the drawings. “Now get out of here so I can get some work done.”

I stood up and started to walk away. Then I stopped and turned back. My resolve from yesterday returned.

“Mr. Barlow?” He looked up. “Yes?”

“You love to teach students who have a lot of promise, like what you saw in this drawing? You even said it was an honor.”

“Yes, I did.” Mr. Barlow stroked his mustache and squinted. “What are you getting at?”

I walked back to his desk. I took a deep breath and then blurted out, “I didn’t do this.” I handed him the tree drawing. “Daniel did.”

Mr. Barlow sputtered. “You turned in his work!”

“No. This drawing is mine.” I held up the teddy bear sketch. “This is the one I turned in. Someone else must have put that one”—I pointed at the drawing in his hands—“in the pile by accident. I’m sorry. I should have told you right away.”

Barlow picked up his watercolor pens and shoved them, one by one, back into his handcrafted mug. He dropped the mug on top of a stack of files and then leaned back in his chair. “You say Daniel did this drawing?”

“Yes. He’s trying to get into Trenton.”

Barlow nodded.

“He really needs this class.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what. If you and your friend meet me here at seven twenty-five sharp, tomorrow morning, I’ll have a talk with him and see what I can do.”

I sprang up on my toes. “Thank you, Mr. Barlow.”

“If Daniel misses another day of school, he’ll lose his tuition scholarship.” He shook his head and muttered, “How he got a scholarship in the first place is beyond me.”